


Cads

by AtmosphericFantasy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtmosphericFantasy/pseuds/AtmosphericFantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Aaron doesn't find the group that night after the storm. Instead, a masked stranger approaches Maggie and Sasha, with word of a walled community called Alexandria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irony

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't posted any fanfiction for years, so forgive me if it's a bit rusty. I'm trying to write as much as I can as quickly as I can, as usually I pine over every sentence and it takes at least an hour to write 500 words, which is ridiculous. So apologies if it feels thin or not fully formed. I hope that you enjoy it regardless :D

Sasha and Maggie jumped up to their feet at the sound of something ripping. They turned to their right, weapons pointing towards the noise. It had been paper. 

Two figures stood close to them, one of them holding a piece of paper towards them. Sasha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, her eyes shifting briefly to Maggie. The hooded stranger held out the note, and the other person seemed to have their arms bound behind them. A piece of rope connected them, tied to the stranger's wrist. 

Maggie looked over the second person, noting the slacked posture, they didn't look exactly right. She examined their clothing, they wore a short coat unlike the first's longer trench coat, the other also carried a backpack like the first person. In addition to the backpack, the other carried two messenger bags, and had a spear strapped to their back as well. The bottom half of their face was covered, but she could see their eyes. No, it wasn't a person at all, not a they, but simply an it. Its eyes had that dead glassy look all the walkers have.

The noise of the music box startled them both and they turned their attention towards it, the irony of the music was almost ridiculous. 

Sasha turned back and shifted her aim towards the walker. It seemed as if this person was using the walker as some kind of mule, using it to carry all that luggage. The stranger raised a gloved hand and covered the walker's mouth. What were they doing? Trying to show that the walker wouldn't bite? Maggie and Sasha simply stared as the stranger resumed holding out a piece of paper for them. 

"Cover me," Sasha muttered under her breath as she stepped towards the stranger. The bottom half of the stranger's face was covered like the walker's, and they had goggles resting against their forehead, showing their eyes, which definitely weren't dead or glassy, but bright and alert. The stranger had a weapon on the front of their belt, which was mostly covered by the coat, the handle looked like it was a sword. 

Maggie wanted to call Sasha back, but she knew it would do little to convince her friend. So she took a few steps to the side, getting a better angle as Sasha made her way closer. Sasha slowed as she neared the stranger, and kept her aim steady. She hesitantly took the piece of paper when she was close enough and stepped backwards, putting space between them. Sasha handed over the paper to Maggie, not relenting her aim. Maggie began to read it aloud. 

"I am unable to speak, that is why I've written this for you. I do not wish to harm you. My cad is unable to bite and is unable to harm you as well," Maggie looked up from the note, curious about the word 'cad' the stranger had used, she hadn't heard anyone call walkers that before.

"Your group has to leave this place, there is not enough food or water here. I know of a place you can go, and I will take you there. It is a walled community, outside of Washington D.C. and the last time I was there it was safe, not overrun. They have running water, food, electricity, and houses, several children live there as well. Their leader is called Deanna, she was a congresswoman for Ohio before this all started and wants to start civilization again. I will introduce you to her, and she will 'audition' you before she allows you to stay, to see if you are a fit for their community. They call the place Alexandria. It is not properly defended or fortified, the people are not trained, but it is the only place I know where the baby has a chance. . ." Maggie drifted off, eyes quickly re-reading over the note, checking if she'd missed out anything.

"You've been watching us?" Sasha questioned rhetorically, knowing that the stranger had if they knew about Judith. The stranger nodded and reached down to move their coat to the side, revealing a Glock tucked in a holster strapped around their thigh. Maggie raised her own weapon at the stranger, watching as they slowly pulled it out and threw it towards them. 

Whoever this person was, they were pulling out all the stops to seem convincing. But suspicion grew deep in Sasha and Maggie's minds, after Terminus. . .how could they possibly trust this stranger? Were they simply playing a long game? The stranger throwing their weapon at them. . .was it all just a ploy? 

"Why would you help us?" Maggie asked, forgetting that she wouldn't be getting a verbal reply. The stranger pulled out a notebook from their coat pocket, and Sasha took the time to collect the weapon strewn several feet from them in the tall grass as the stranger wrote. There was something unsettling about the fact that the handgun had a silencer attached to it. She collected the paper again, and handed it to Maggie. 

"You seem like good people," Maggie read out, her voice sounding almost resigned. Sasha gritted her teeth and looked away for a brief moment before replying.

"You don't know what we've done, you don't know if we're good people or not." Moments passed as Sasha collected the stranger's reply, and this time she read it out herself.

"If you weren't good people, I'd already be dead." Sasha let out a sigh and brought her gun up again, but this time her grip was slightly looser. 

"Show us your face," Sasha ordered the stranger, and watched as they took down the hood and pulled the goggles down until they hung around their neck. A dark beanie hat was taken off, along with a bandanna that covered the bottom part of their face, but underneath something was still there. It looked like a gag, a muzzle, it covered everything below the stranger's nose. Unstrapping the muzzle took a few moments, and then Sasha and Maggie could see the stranger's face. The stranger was a woman, and she had short, unkempt hair, an unremarkable face aside from a scar that cut across her eyebrow and forehead, but the scar seemed years old. The hat was tucked into a pocket, and the muzzle was strapped around the belt on her hips, next to the sword.

"What's your name?" Maggie asked, seemingly more comfortable with the stranger being a woman than she would have been with a man. The stranger replied, and held up the piece of paper so they could both read it.

Jamie. 

"I'm Maggie, this is Sasha." Jamie nodded at them both. Uncovering her face was a good idea on Sasha's part, Maggie thought to herself, Jamie looked more nervous than they did, it certainly helped put her to ease with the stranger.

"We should take her back to the group," Maggie mused, wondering what to do with the walker she had with her. Sasha watched Jamie as she shifted nervously at Maggie's words. 

"Rick's not going to like this," Sasha admitted, but knew at this point, that they didn't have much of a choice. They were lucky with the water they had found in some abandoned cars, and the storm had finally eased the parched lands around them. How the barn wasn't torn apart like everything else outside was, Sasha didn't know. She was still in awe of it all, of their survival, of their endurance. Maybe this Alexandria was the next step. Maybe it was another Terminus. But they couldn't ignore this opportunity, even if it turned out to be bad, the possibility of it being good was too great to relinquish.

"We're going to take you to our people, alright?" Jamie nodded at Maggie and took a few moments before moving towards them, pulling the walker along with her. Sasha pointed out the direction to Jamie and quickly collected her rifle she had laid down during her talk with Maggie. She allowed her aim to lower slightly as they headed off to the barn, but kept her grip tight in case the stranger tried anything on them. 

Jamie moved the walker in front of her, and walked behind it, with Sasha and Maggie following behind quietly. Sasha kept searching the treeline for anyone watching, anyone about to ambush them, but somehow it didn't seem likely. The stranger. . .Jamie seemed like she hadn't dealt with people for a while, her nervousness, her seemingly detached humanity with her attire and inability to speak. She seemed alone.

"Are you alone?" Sasha asked, watching Jamie as she turned back to her slightly and nodded. 

As they walked, Sasha and Maggie noticed that on the bottom half of Jamie's trench coat, there was a plastic covering, which had been smeared with walker guts. Smart. And that sword? Even if this Alexandria place didn't turn out well, maybe Jamie could be a good addition to their group, she seemed perfectly able to look after herself. Maggie was surprised at herself for already considering such a notion, but somehow she felt good about this stranger, Jamie.

"How long have you been alone?" Maggie asked, picking up her pace slowly so that she was almost walking side by side with Jamie. 

A hand was held out, five. Pause. Two fingers. 

"Seven weeks?" A shake of the head. 

"Seven months?" Sasha questioned with disbelief. Nod. Seven months. . . how did she come to know that group in Alexandria? How does she know their leader? Is she not apart of their group? Why did she leave them? Questions started to swirl in both of their heads, and before either of them could begin to ask, a walker stalked out from the trees towards them, snarling, almost hissing at them. Before they could move towards it to take it down silently with a knife, Jamie had almost silently pulled out her sword, there was no dramatic scraping of metal like in the movies. 

She threw the rope connecting her to the walker mule over its shoulder and half-ran up to the walker coming towards them, and cleanly cut through its head in one motion. The sword was long, needed two hands, and the blade instantly reminded Sasha and Maggie of Michonne. But this sword didn't have the katana's grace and lightness as Michonne could easily wield it one-handed. Jamie's longsword was heavy, almost brutal in its weight and power. Jamie turned back towards them, cleaning off the blood from the long blade with a rag she pulled out from her back pocket. 

After cleaning and sheathing the sword, she reclaimed her walker mule and continued onwards, leaving Sasha and Maggie to stare at each other.


	2. Hostility

After taking out the cad, they kept moving forwards, heading towards the rest of their group. Each step was becoming a question, an uncertainty. Jamie wanted to flee. She was putting herself at unnecessary risk. But the memory of the first time she saw the group kept her walking forwards. 

It was still morning when Jamie found herself caught up in a growing swarm of cads all moving in one direction through the trees. The swarm numbered maybe twenty before they reached a road, and then that number almost doubled. She slowly moved off the road and started to outpace the swarm, constantly pushing her cad forwards to get ahead. After reaching the front line of the cads, she saw a large gap in the road, and then there was another group further along. But they weren't cads. They were humans, carrying weapons and a few bags. Their pace was slow, but fast enough that the space was maintained between them and the swarm. They didn't seem to care about the cads much at all. Jamie kept moving forwards, with a hand on her cad's shoulder as she made her way through the trees lining the road. 

She kept a distance from them, but was close enough to see the people in better detail. All of them looked worse for wear. A near-empty water bottle was passed in between a couple of them. The day would only get hotter. How long could they last? Where were they going? With how little they had with them, the real question was, what had happened before? To be walking so exposed with so few supplies? 

Jamie considered the water she had, carried between herself and the cad, it was almost three gallons. The people weren't carrying so little that she doubted they had enough food to last a day or two between all fifteen of them. A passing thought of offering food and water was immediately squashed. These people were desperate, they'd just kill her and take everything. 

The group was made up of adults, both women and men, aside from one teenager amongst them. Jamie watched as one of the group looked back, a bearded man, as someone offered him water. In his arms, Jamie saw he was holding a baby. She pulled up her goggles, checking to see if she'd seen it properly. She stopped, eyes widening at the sight, it was a baby alright. Jamie hadn't seen a baby since. . .

Since that fucking place.

A place she had dared to call home for almost a year. 

Jamie grinded her teeth together, though the movement was restricted by the muzzle gag covering the bottom half of her face. Its restriction gave her comfort, but it wasn't enough to ease her mind from the dilemma she now faced. This place was too hot and dry, Jamie was only passing through. She'd been walking since dawn and was planning on finding a place to sleep before the day's heat reached its peek. After little luck scouting greenhouses, she was heading back east. Her luck seemingly plummeting into a ditch after finding a group bigger than she'd seen in months. . .since Alexandria.

If she didn't help them. . .that baby might be the first to die. She didn't understand why she was feeling so personally responsible, perhaps it was seeing someone so young, knowing that they had not yet been corrupted by the world, like so many others had. Maybe that child could have a chance. She thought of Alexandria, albeit with annoyance. How those people managed to survive that long almost felt like betrayal. How could they have lived such carefree, easy lives as the people outside gradually lost every last shred of humanity? 

Aaron and Eric had seemed like good people though. Jamie found them caught up in a swarm, Aaron was half-carrying Eric who had broken his ankle. They made it into a car, and for some reason she took pity on them. They spoke of Alexandria, offered her sanctuary, showed her grainy, black and white pictures. She didn't accept, assuming it was a facade. But she followed Aaron's vague directions, it took almost a fortnight to find their so-called community. 

That was a few months back now. If they had secured that place near the beginning of it all, it was probably still standing now, considering their luck.

Jamie pulled down her goggles and headed out further from the road, but close enough to keep an eye on the group's pace. The decision had been made. Even if it was fucking stupid.

Stupid. No question. She hadn't truly considered what would happen when she tried to help. The barn they were staying in was just up ahead. Now she'd be having an audience with them, and she couldn't verbally plead her case. Why would they believe a silent stranger writing about a place of refuge? With walls, electricity, and water. Maybe she should have omitted those, make the place seem less like a fantasy.

"You can't bring that walker inside," Maggie told her as they were almost at the barn's entrance. Jamie was tempted to argue, but writing it down wouldn't have the same effect as verbally trying to convince someone. She nodded reluctantly and took off the bags and the spear from the cad before diverting it to one of the trees. After knocking the cad to its knees, she tied the connecting rope to the tree, and covered the cad's eyes, as having less senses made it more docile. 

Sasha had switched her initial handgun for a rifle when they first headed off, and it was lazily kept in Jamie's direction. Jamie used to have a rifle like that. 

"We want you to take off your gear, bag, weapons, before we go in," Maggie asserted, her words were making Jamie itch with discomfort. They had guns sure, but they didn't want to take any chances, it was a logical step for them to take. She unstrapped the backpack from her chest and pulled it off her shoulders. Next, she took off her long, hooded coat, laying it partially across the bag, the bloodied bottom half left on the ground. After that, she took off the belt holding her longsword at the front, a machete at the back. The thigh holster was taken off, now rendered useless without its weapon. She hesitated before pulling a knife out of her left boot, it was meant to be the last line of defense. But she had to do this right, no signs of hostility. Jamie grabbed her notebook and pen in one hand, hoping that her words might be enough to help them, and help her get through this in one piece. 

Maggie led them into the barn, Sasha at the rear.

"Hey! Everyone. This is Jamie." She watched as they all scuttled to their feet, weapons raised, expressions of confusion and fear. One of them with a crossbow and a dark vest walked straight past her, checking out the entrance to the barn. Jamie turned back to face the group as they were all now on their feet. She saw the bearded man holding the baby again, but he seemed more angry than afraid, as if she was violating their temporary sanctuary, and she supposed she was. 

"We met her outside. She's by herself." Jamie clenched her gloved fist when she felt someone aggressively pat her legs, checking for weapons, probably the man in the vest. 

"We took her weapons and we took her gear." His hands worked up her legs quickly, from the top of her combat boots and up her pants. As he made his way up across her torso, she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain still. A few seconds later it was over, and someone then snatched the notebook and pen from her hand. 

The barn door was closed shut behind her, and she felt the tension spike, it moved thick through the air, almost heavy enough to choke on. She nodded slowly in greeting, letting her hands fall down to her sides. The baby began to cry, able to sense the emotional state of the people around her. The bearded man handed the baby over to the teenager who stood close by. All eyes were looking to him.

"You said she had a weapon?" The man questioned calmly, hand holding his gun down, his body kept turned slightly, shooting position. She presumed he was the leader of this group as he spoke first. Maggie moved past her and handed him the gun, he holstered his own. He checked it over, releasing the magazine, before putting it back together and inspecting the ejection port. His stare was relentless as he finished and tucked it into the back of his jeans, as if it was now his. Jamie almost glowered at the move, considering that they might just take everything from her. Stupid. Should have let them die.

"It's the only gun, but there are more outside, along with her gear." The man responded by looking past Jamie and raising up his chin, signalling to someone behind. "There's a walker tied to a tree close-by, it can't bite. She had it with her," Maggie continued before the barn door opened. 

"There something you need?" The man asked, Jamie thought the question strange, they were the ones in need. 

"She can't speak so she wrote us this," Sasha replied, handing the note over to Maggie, who handed it to him. Another person stood behind him, a woman wielding a katana, and he held up the letter so they could read it together. Jamie kept her eyes on the katana, admiring it briefly as they read in silence. 

Two of the group came in carrying her gear and weapons, and she couldn't help but wince slightly as her longsword was dumped along with the rest of it, with the exception of her coat which had been left outside.

"Read it out," the bearded man told the woman and so she did. The man kept his eyes on Jamie as the woman spoke, his stare only faltering at the end, at the mention of the baby. When she finished, the man shared a look with her. Then, he began walking up to Jamie with his head hung low, eyes on the note in his hands. Jamie watched as he looked up, he threw his arm back before his fist came flying towards her.


	3. Precision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I had real difficulty writing this chapter, but I hope the extra length makes up for the wait! :)

The group was on high alert, preparing for an ambush, eyes were in every direction.

Rick had ordered Carl to look through the stranger's bags, and he also asked Eugene and Carol to help his son, considering how much she had. 

They emptied out the two backpacks and two messenger bags into one big pile. There was food, water, clothes, a medical kit. Carol found a foot-long, four inch wide rectangular plate of metal with straps on it, and two bottles of liquor with rags tied around in, Molotov cocktails on standby. Fire was useless against the walkers, they burned but it didn't stop them, only slowed them down. This was a weapon against people. Carl found a couple of knives, a weapon-cleaning kit, blade sharpener, duct-tape, a few spare magazines, he handed those over to his dad. He picked up an odd-looking wooden object, it took a few moments for him to remember its title, a ratchet noisemaker. Carl put it carefully back on the floor, knowing that those things were loud. Then, he found a small bag which had a collection of music players inside, along with a pair of headphones that had seen better days. He began turning on each of the music players to see if any of them worked. 

Eugene spotted some books underneath neatly tied bundles of rope. There were only two books, one of them was a paperback, the other looked more like a journal. It was a relief to find something more his speed. He flicked through the pages of the paperback, careful not to let any of the notes inside fall out. 

Carol in the meantime was looking through the medical kit. There were bandages, antiseptic, painkillers, a few vials of liquid, syringes, and a bottle of pills, its label had smiley faces drawn all over it. Tucked beneath the bandages was a small metal box, and inside, there was a sealed bag of white powder. Carol was getting more concerned the more she looked. Was this woman an addict? Was there even a chance you could maintain a habit these days? It was hard enough finding cigarettes, they were a rare treat for Daryl. Before she could show the drugs to Rick, Eugene broke the heavy silence in the room.

"I believe that this woman is a military historian, specifically of the European medieval persuasion, which would also account for the longsword in her possession."

"Anyone can pick up a sword, Eugene," Abraham replied, staring at the outside of the barn through a small gap in the wall.

"The book itself has been extensively edited, some parts have been marked out, and other parts have been rewritten completely, which would also suggest her authorship." Abraham, Carol and Rick all looked over to him, with almost resigned expressions. Eugene didn't wait for any of them to reply. 

"This book's author is Jamie Ashwood, presumably the Jamie over there has the same surname, and there is also a picture of her inside the book which appears to be a match of her likeness," Eugene finished before holding out the book to Rick. After examining the picture, Rick was in agreement with him, the only difference between Jamie now was the shorter hair and an older face. 

Jamie Ashwood. Historian. Rick sighed. That didn't exactly give him a lot. Who people were before didn't mean much anymore. 

"There's another book, a journal to be more precise, I haven't looked at it yet," Eugene told Rick, and handed the journal to him. 

This book was entirely hand-written. The first page was entitled 'ways to kill cadavers', that must have been what 'cads' meant. 

Catastrophic blood loss - fail. Loss of internal organs - fail. Shock - fail. Drowning - fail. Burning - fail. Incineration - success. Dehydration - fail. Starvation - fail. Decapitation - partial success [head still active]. Suffocation - fail. 

Penetration of brain cavity [half an inch] - success. 

Rick flicked through the pages, there were drawings and diagrams about walkers, about how far they could hear, how far they could smell, about how humans could be mistaken as walkers by using their blood. 

Within a group of ten cads - success. Within a group of twenty cads - success. At least two pints should be used for adequate coverage-

He kept looking through, finding pages of drawings, detailing defences, trenches and barriers, how to make weapons to penetrate the skull, spears and knives. Then there was a drawing of a long tunnel shape, a bottle neck, which had four inner barriers which could be moved back and forth at will. It was a killing zone. There were places where cadavers could be removed, to prevent a pile up. It detailed group formations of five using spears, two people as backup carrying extra weapons. He turned over the next page, which described amphetamine use in case of emergencies, to prolong endurance in order to take out a swarm.

Diversionary tactics must be employed, at least three teams must be send out to disrupt the swarm-

Who the fuck was she?

This was. . .professional. Was this just theoretical, or had this woman been to a place like that? Had she dealt with a herd of walkers while she was high on speed? The thought made him uneasy. Who the fuck were they dealing with? 

"Rick, you need to see this," Carol mentioned, concern in her voice, he looked up from the journal and saw her holding a bag of white powder.

"And you need to see this," he replied, handing over the journal to her, left open at the page he'd been reading. She read it quickly, and flicked back through the pages he'd already looked over. After going back to the beginning, she checked the later part of the journal, the pages were blank. Carol let out a soft sigh.

"You know, soldiers in WWII used to take this stuff so they could go out on longer patrols, they'd stay up for hours, walk miles without feeling anything, without needing to eat. Do you think she's military? Or maybe if she wasn't before. . .maybe she met up with some soldiers? It would explain all this. . .experimenting."

"Maybe."

"Rick. . .what if they're watching us. What if she has soldiers with her? We're hardly in a state to take on that kind of firepower." Rick nodded at her and grinded his teeth together. His people could be attacked any moment. 

He called Maggie and Sasha over, asking them everything they knew about Jamie.

"We didn't see her until she was close, she could have hurt us if she wanted to," Maggie replied in earnest.

"She wrote that we seemed like good people, and if we weren't, we would have killed her already," Sasha gave her answer, it made Rick breathe out a curt laugh. 

"She's been alone seven months too, that's all we found out before we brought her here." Rick thanked them and was about to address the whole group before the stranger came to. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She should have let them die. 

Jamie groaned when she woke, her face aching with the force of the punch that had knocked her unconscious. It was a good punch, her jaw would ache for hours. Why didn't she expect this? Why had hope swelled so easy in her gut? Hope had suffocated her judgement, drowned her thoughts with the innocence of a baby, with the chance of saving people. People who seemed strong, even at the precipice of death. They hadn't picked each other off, they hadn't sacrificed the weak to ensure the survival of the strong. They'd live together and die together. 

A bond like that. . .they'd never trust the word of a stranger. Anyone outside the group was fair game. Why didn't she just let them fucking die? 

"Sit her up," the man ordered. 

"I think it's better if-"

"She's fine. Sit her up." Jamie let them pull her up off the wooden floor, only noticing then that her wrists had been tied. The binds weren't medical restraints, which put her at ease. 

"Are there people watching us right now?" She furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head.

"See I find that hard to believe. Why would someone who's alone approach a group of strangers?" The man stared at her, tilting his head, expectant of a reply. Jamie wished she could speak. She hadn't wanted that for a long time. Words meant nothing when they fell upon deaf ears, and now these people wanted to listen to her, but she couldn't form the words.

She awkwardly pulled her arms to rest on her hip, so the man could see her fingers signalling out writing. The man didn't respond, but the woman with the katana handed back her notepad which someone had taken before, she placed it on the floor next to her, alongwith the pen. It was slightly painful, but Jamie managed to write, albeit messily.

_This group is weak. You need help._

The woman behind her read out Jamie's answer.

"We're doing just fine," the man replied, Jamie breathed out a laugh. Some of them would be dead if she didn't help. 

"You with soldiers?" She tilted her head back slightly, how did he- The man held up her journal. The drawings inside, the tactics, the findings, could have suggested military. Her eyes flicked across the barn, noticing that her bags had been upturned into one big pile. 

"Are you with soldiers?" She shook her head. 

_I was a long time ago. They're dead._

"How'd that happen?" Jamie sighed, the memory of it was almost putrid. 

_Our base was attacked, water supply poisoned, swarm came in, the place burned to the ground. A few made it out with me. They're dead too._

"What happened to the people who made it out with you?" It was a question she should have expected, but one she was reluctant to answer. The man pressed the question, his voice calm and commanding. 

_They killed themselves. Been alone since._

"How do know about that place if you've been alone since?"

_Found two of them. They were surrounded by cads, one had a broken ankle. I helped them. They told me about Alexandria, wanted me to go with them, I refused._

"You said you had been there." The man was irritated. 

_I followed their vague directions. Took me a few weeks to find it._

"If that place has running water, food, houses and electricity, why didn't you stay?"

_They live in the old world. It has walls so they think they're safe. From the cads maybe, but not people. They sit in their houses, having parties and dinners, they gossip and they laugh like the people outside aren't eating each other. If raiders find that place, they'll tear them apart. It's safer alone._

The woman paused after reading the 'eating each other' sentence. Some of the group shifted awkwardly before she continued. Jamie rolled her shoulders a few times, failing to notice the surge of tension in the room. She tried to work out the ache that had built in her muscles, having written so much. The woman behind her stood up, walked over to the man who'd been talking to her. The man signalled a couple others over, with one hand still holding onto her journal, they moved to the far end of the barn, their hushed conversation out of Jamie's earshot.

Jamie didn't know what else she could do at that point. She considered the thin razor blade and two paper clips she had sown into the back of her pants. The blade wasn't big enough to be a weapon, but was probably sharp enough to cut through the binds around her wrists. It would take a while to do that, and with so many eyes on her, it was pointless. But with the small group huddled over in the corner, likely discussing her fate, the urge was becoming overwhelming. 

She forced herself to wait, reminding herself that this was all her choice. Her stupid fucking choice. At least, she had made one. Instead of wasting away, she chose to try, she couldn't help herself. Though this time, she didn't run in blind, that almost got her killed, or rather, dismembered. She'd taken every precaution on her side, now it was just a matter of seeing if her gut was right. That these people might listen. 

The group at the back finally broke apart, the man stepped forward first, addressing the whole group, without the journal in his grasp.

"If we're all in here, we're a target. Any of you run into trouble, don't hesitate." 

"We got the area covered," another man replied, throwing his arm up in the air, signalling the others.

"Alright, groups of two, find somewhere safe within eyeshot." The group followed his command, and they started to file out of the barn, weapons raised. Someone grabbed up her up off the floor and shoved her further into the barn. After sitting her back down, her hands were retied around one of the ceiling supports, ankles restrained as well, an older woman kept her weapon pointed directly at Jamie's face. The binds felt tighter than before. 

A few moments passed before they finished, and they left the barn as well. The last person to leave was the teenager, the leader affectionately patted his shoulder before he exited the entrance. Was that his child as well? Both his baby and teenager had survived all this? Jamie was beginning to understand some of the reasons why he was designated leader of the group. Not only was it his commanding demeanure, his anger and not fear of her arrival, but it was that his children had survived. Out of all these people, his were the only children left.

He closed the barn door and picked up her notebook and pen from the floor, his eyes glazing over what she had written. The man then moved behind her, presumably rustling through her belongings. Without all those people, all those faces that had been eying her so carefully, there was something eery about the barn. It was just him, and the baby, who hadn't made a sound since the outcry from earlier. 

She listened to his footsteps as he slowly moved around her, the steps were heavy, almost teasing. 

"Did you really think we would believe you?" His voice turned darker than it had before, threatening. He loomed at the edge of her peripheral vision, his elbow resting against the support she was tied to. Jamie shrugged. She had hoped they would believe her. 

"Open your mouth," he ordered, crouching down in front of her. She shifted away from him, confused at the words. Dread filled her gut as he leaned towards her. 

"I said, open your mouth." Her teeth grinded together tightly, hard enough that her jaw was started to ache. The man reached out and one hand grabbed her neck, the other pinching her nose. Her eyes widened as her oxygen was cut off, his grip around her throat was already making blood thrum beneath her lips. Jamie opened her mouth, breathing through her teeth. The man released the grip on her nose, and reached down to his holster for his weapon before pressing the barrel against her lips. 

"Open. Your mouth." She complied, the grip on her throat immediately relaxing. Jamie looked away as he came in close, inspecting her mouth, a hand grasped her jaw, turning her face back to him. 

"Hmm, they didn't cut out your tongue," he commented almost nonchalantly. 

"You can speak. So tell me. Where are your people?" Jamie remained still. If she shook her head, he'd see it as a refusal to answer, not that she was unable to speak. 

"Just because we're good people, doesn't mean we won't kill you." The man uttered it as a clear warning. 

"Where are your people?" Jamie kept her eyes on him as he clenched his jaw in frustration. His eyes fell to the floor, the last time he did that, he had walked over and knocked her out. She tried to prepare herself, but it did nothing.

He struck her head with the butt of his gun, it took half a second for the pain to register. The man repeated the question, his voice steady, almost calm, aside from the clippings of anger in his words. Jamie kept looking at him, not wanting to turn away in weakness. He hit her again, the pain was sharper, almost burning, she groaned in pain. But this time he didn't give her time to recover before striking for the third time. Jamie half-shouted in response to the pain, unable to control herself. Her pain tolerance was not as high as it used to be. 

The force of the impact split the top of her forehead, blood came dripping down her face. Each hit was controlled, and had increased with intensity, there was something in the back of her mind telling her this wasn't his first time. She stared at him, feeling the blood streaming down her neck, watching him as he stood back up, his head tilting in consideration of his work. He was unyielding. He'd do whatever it takes to find out what he wanted. 

There was something in his eyes. A darkness. It was almost pleasure. 

She knew sadism, knew it after the world changed, and before. She'd seen eyes wild with sadistic pleasure, without a care for anything but their gratification, and she'd seen eyes dark with sadism, but they were restrained, and not uncaring. 

His eyes were not wild. They were not uncaring. 

Jamie pulled her arms to one side, trying to awkwardly signal writing again, made even more awkward with the support in the way.

"I know you can speak. You're able to make noise, so your throat isn't damaged. You still have a tongue. So talk." 

She signalled again, but his response was a fist to the gut, knocking the wind out of her. Jamie wheezed helplessly, trying to gasp for air, but not quite being able to. It took her a few moments to recover, she took in deep breaths, noticing then that he was out of eyeshot. 

"You don't need to write when you can speak," his voice echoing inside the barn. When he had walked back to her, he was holding her muzzle gag, inspecting the straps. His fingers traced the leather carefully.

"Are you one of those fetish freaks? Hmm?" Jamie's eyes dropped down to the floor. Her chin was lifted up by a finger, he was crouching in front of her again. "Do you like pain? Is that why they sent you here? Because they thought we couldn't get you to talk?" He half-whispered to her, eyes then roaming over the wound he'd inflicted. The man dropped the muzzle, and pulled something from his back pocket, thankfully it was just an old piece of clothing, it looked like it was hers. He began to wipe the blood above her brow and on her temple, before carefully dabbing the wound itself. His movements were careful enough to be kind. 

Jamie was reeling from his words. She could understand blunt aggression, she could deal with unbridled rage, it was easy to process. But this man, his anger had been followed by hushed words. He adapted quickly. His comprehension of her grew with every reaction she made. The conclusions he had jumped to made sense, though they were false, she didn't know how she could convince him she was trying to help. 

How could she talk though? How could she tell him that? Months had passed in silence. The only voice she heard was her mind. But she knew that he would not stop, he had control of himself, he would inflict damage with precision. He would not allow his anger to take over completely. He would do whatever it takes to find the truth, to know if his group were in danger. She understood that relentlessness, that drive. She would never win against it.

Jamie closed her eyes, concentrating on pressing her lips together and pushing air out of her mouth.

"P-P." Her tongue rolled against the top of her mouth and over the back of her teeth, but made no noise. She mouthed the word 'please', opening her eyes, she repeated, hoping he'd understand.

Please. 

His expression was blank.

Jamie's mouth widened as she tried to force herself to talk. Crackling noises came from the back of her throat as she pushed the air out. The sounds were strangled, incomprehensible. She tried to form words, going on for over a minute, but it was useless. Her head leaned back against the support and she was silent once more. 

The man wiped her forehead again before holding the cloth against her wound, Jamie winced at the pressure. 

"Are you mute?" He asked, voice softer than it had ever been. She nodded. 

He left the cloth against her head before standing up and walking behind her again, leaving her to stare at the inner walls of the barn. Jamie kept her head tilted back, her respiration and heart rate began to slow. The pain from her wound, the binds around her wrists, the aching of her jaw were beginning not to register properly. The sensation was there, but it was somehow distant. She was disassociating. 

Maybe he believed her. Maybe he was having a little break before starting round two. The thought meant less to her than it should have, considering her life was in his hands. But it was freeing, to not be in control, to not have that responsibility. It was so easy to slip into submission. This wasn't like the other times she'd been captured, life in someone else's hands, that wasn't submission. But this? This was. She had chosen this.

It gave her comfort. 

Jamie wondered how else she could get herself to talk verbally. She had tried to form the sounds, but it felt wrong. Like they were muscles she never knew she had. Unfamiliar and uneasy. But even if she could talk, would it matter? 

She had tried to use her words before, tried to save people with them, but they ended up dead. In the end, her words didn't matter. 

Words meant nothing.


End file.
